007: 007 in New York
by DrStrangelovPHD
Summary: Daniel Craig-era Bond with an Ian Fleming title. Bond is teamed up with CIA Agent Felix Leiter to infiltrate a museum party in New York City. Their objective is to apprehend a terrorist looking to purchase a biological weapon. Only 5 chapters, a short, short story.
1. Arrival of a Secret Agent

**01/ ARRIVAL OF A SECRET AGENT **

James Bond finished his conversation with the custom's official and walked towards the baggage claim area. For an hour, Bond sat in the "nothing to declare" line at customs and waited for his turn. The flight from London to New York took longer than expected. He boarded the last-minute flight to America on the urging from his boss. She had confidence and trust in James Bond, and felt at ease knowing that she could depend on him with this urging and pressing assignment. It took an hour of explanation and debriefing, another hour to pack, and a long, weather-related delay at Heathrow and another five hours to New York's JFK International. Bond's boss, known to many in the Double-O section as "M", was clear and simple with her orders: "Go to New York City, and meet Felix Leiter". Bond had known Felix for some time. Letier, now working for the Central Intelligence Agency in America, had worked with James Bond in Montenegro and Bolivia. He had an easygoing, but cold demeanor in his voice, and referred to the British ally simply as "brother". (Seeing that Felix Leiter was "a brother from Langley"). Bond's objective was also clear. When he would meet Felix, he would find out what was going on.

Bond walked up to the third customs booth and looked at the official. He was a pear-shaped man with a button nose and a black mop of messy hair. He also looked exhausted and bored, but came alert at the sight of Bond. The British agent smiled at the official, and then passed his passport and customs form to him. The official looked at Bond's picture and information and studied them. He returned to the photo page and asked, "How are you today?" Bond replied in a British accent, "Fine. Long flight, however." The man ignored him. "What's the purpose of your visit, Mr. Bond?"

"Business."

"What kind of business are you in?"

"I'm in the publishing agency. I want to open up an office here in New York City."

"Interesting. And how long will you be staying?"

"Two weeks."

"You're checked into the Marriot?"

"That is correct."

"Anything to declare, Mr. Bond?"

"No."

The official then studied the customs documents, the man standing before him wrote that he carried less than $2,000 cash, which was of no alarm. The information written on the card matched the questions that he had just answered. After a minute, he handed Bond back his paperwork and said, "Welcome to the United States, Mr. Bond. I hope you have a pleasant stay." "Thank you." Bond then took his documents and walked over to the doors that led to the baggage claim area. He waited at carousel number five, as did many people on the flight from London. Two minutes later, a buzzer sounded, the carousel came to life, and the luggage appeared from the conveyor belt. Bond retrieved a medium-sized bag and walked into the main airport to the arrivals juncture. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an iPhone. He punched a button and waited. A man's voice then came over the phone.  
"Yes?"

"It's Bond. I'm here now."

"Which door are you at?"

Bond scanned the airport arrivals lounge and found the nearest exit door by the airport Starbucks. Bond then replied, "Door number five."

"Look for a white Taurus with New York plates. I'm in it. I will take you straight to the hotel."

"Alright." Bond hung up and walked through door five and out into the roundabout. Taxis, limousines, tuxedo-black Lincoln Continentals livery cars, and hotel and airport parking shuttles prowled the area. He saw a shuttle bus going to the airport Marriot, but he ignored it. Leiter was going to pick him up. He waited underneath the bright lights of the International Arrivals area and waited for the white Taurus as instructed. It was then the iPhone buzzed and Bond answered it. It was a text message from Bill Tanner, Chief of Staff.

**The Car has arrived for you.**

Bond cursed the fact that he couldn't have the car brought to the airport to pick him up. But driving a fancy European car in the middle of an American city would draw much more attention than expected. Nonetheless, Bond waited for Leiter's car. Just then, the Taurus appeared, illuminated by the bright lights and the glass windows of the terminal. The Taurus pulled up close to Bond and flashed its high-beams to signal him. The driver didn't get out but motioned for Bond to enter. He opened the back door and plopped his bag down on the seat, and then he got in the passenger seat. Leiter offered a handshake. "Good to see you, brother."

With a coffee complexion, brown eyes, and a neatly-trimmed, jet-black beard, Felix Leiter of the CIA looked professional to match Bond's standards. At forty-four, he was older than Bond, and looked at things with a casual attitude. It was the only thing that set both agents apart. Bond shook Leiter's hand and replied, "Likewise." Leiter put the vehicle in gear and pulled away from arrivals. The car melted into the night and onto the Interstate. Leiter then got down to business.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Bond shrugged. "M sent me. Said it was important."

"Let me fill you in." Leiter handed Bond his iPhone. On it was a picture of an olive-skinned man with black hair and brown eyes, wearing an expensive Armani suit. He was talking to another man in what looked like a café. Leiter spoke up. "His name is Zayed Rahman—Zayed Abdullah Rahman. He's Lebanese, 46-years-old, and a major player in Al Qaeda. Just two weeks ago, the CIA got intel that he was looking to purchase a weapon of mass destruction and the equipment necessary to disperse it. For weeks he was in contact with a German antiquities expert known as Wilhelm Schmidt." Bond saw the next picture. The picture was of a European male with white hair, black eyes, and who appeared to be in his early sixties.

"What would a member of Al Qaeda want with an antiquities dealer?" Leiter laughed. "It seems that Mr. Schmidt is popular with Middle Eastern terror groups with selling weapons. He sells small-arms, RPGs, and occasionally some military vehicles. His cover is that of an antiquities dealer. He runs his business out of the New York Museum of History out of Manhattan. Just one week ago, one of Rahman's aliases popped up on the grid here in New York. Text messages and phone calls confirm he's meeting Schmidt at the museum later tonight. Rahman's presumably attending the unveiling ceremony of rare Egyptian antiquities. He's leaving with more than an eyeful of relics and a bloodstream full of champagne. Now, where's this hotel of yours?"

Bond told him where it was and Leiter swung the car onto an off-ramp and onto a quiet street. They came to the hotel and Leiter stopped the car. He reminded, "The party's in two hours. It's full glitz, if you know what I mean." Bond knew right away and got his bag out of the car. He was given an envelope by Leiter before entering the hotel. Within minutes, Bond checked into his room, submitted his credit card information in case of incidentals, and was directed to his floor and the elevators. Bond got into the available car and punched the button for the sixth floor. He found room 642 and unlocked the door and walked inside. The room was a simple one: two queen-sized beds, a small bathroom with shower, a mini-bar, flat-screen TV, and a lovely view of JFK International Airport. Bond laid his bag out on the first bed and looked at the envelope in his hand. He opened it and found his invitation, under his real name; listing the address as 1330 West 74th Street and the opening time as 8:00 pm. James Bond lay down on the opposite bed and stretched out his legs. He set his phone alarm to go off in one hour and closed his eyes. He hoped it won't be the only time he would get some shut-eye during the mission.


	2. Life of the Party

**02/ THE LIFE OF THE PARTY **

The iPhone went off, sending Bond up with a start. He turned off the alarm and found another text message from Tanner.

**The car keys are waiting for you at the front desk. Remind yourself that the party starts at 8:00. As always, good luck, Double-O Seven.**

Bond frowned that Tanner, MI6's Chief of Staff, would refer to him as "Double-O Seven" or simply as "007". Why not call him by his name rather than his number? Maybe it was to keep things simple. As if there wasn't another James Bond working for Her Majesty's government. _Yeah, yeah_. Bond thought. _But why not send the car itself to the hotel? What was the problem there? _He ignored it and stripped down for a shower. He showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth. Then there was a knock at the door. With a jumbo-sized towel wrapped around his waist, he answered it. A woman in a velvet uniform with a gold-plated name tag was holding a suit by its hook. She said in a pleasant voice, "Mr. Bond, this was left for you." Bond thanked her, took the suit, and shut the door. He hung it on the closet coat-rack and looked at it. It was a black Armani suit with a crisp, white shirt, bow tie, and black socks. The shoes were in the bag along with the suit. He changed into the shirt and both socks and shoes when the phone chirped again. It was Leiter, contacting Bond from downstairs.

**I'm outside, please hurry.**

Another message said:

**Do you like the suit?**

Bond chuckled to himself. He had put on his shoes and pulled the Walther P99 pistol and its holster from his bag He checked the gun, the magazine, and its silencer. He put on the holster and stuck the gun into his armpit, placing

the silencer and two spare magazines in his pocket. He slipped the phone into his coat pocket and pulled the coat over his body. He then buttoned the bow tie last. Bond inspected himself in the mirror. He looked like a million bucks (or Pounds Sterling, for that matter). Feeling like a new man, he left the room and rode the elevator down to the lobby. He found the night-shift clerk and asked about a parcel. She went under the desk and retrieved a small bag containing the car keys. The bag was marked: "J. Bond."

"Thanks." Bond said, and walked outside to the garage where Leiter was waiting in the Taurus. He was also dressed in a suit, much similar to Bonds. He asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Bond said, getting in. "Thanks for the suit."

The Taurus eased away from the hotel and Leiter got on the Interstate, heading southbound into New York City. "Our contact inside the party is in position. She'll be guiding us around." Bond was puzzled. "I thought _you _were guiding me around?" Leiter explained, "My contact is ex-NYPD. She works in New York in their counterterrorism field office. She just so happens to be working undercover in Mr. Schmidt's museum."

"How convenient." Bond noted.

Leiter responded,"Quite. Are you packing?"

Bond lifted up the folds of his jacket to reveal the Walther. Leiter got off the Interstate and stopped at a red light to show Bond his piece, a black pistol in a hip holster.

".40-caliber Glock 22—takes seventeen and fifteen-round clips. Standard CIA issue."

Bond countered,"Mine's new with the Double-O's. 9x19mm Parabellum, ten rounds in the clip, with a delivery like a brick through a plate-glass window." "Any additional ammunition?"

"Two extra ten-round mags." "Any backup weapons?" "I haven't the need for them." Leiter turned left onto Times Square and passed a row of taxis and buses. The congestion on the street was terrible, and Leiter leaned on the horn to get his point across. "Can't these guys see I'm carrying a tourist?"

Bond smirked. "You impress me, Felix."

"It's nice to be on my home turf once again. It keeps things simple. How do you like Times Square?"

"It's lovely." Bond said, admiring the glittering neon and the rest of the New York skyline.

He looked up at the night sky, the stars were showing and the moon was bright and orange.

Leiter found a clear space with no traffic and blended in. "We're making good time. 74th Street's three blocks from here."

Bond asked, "What are we to do when we see Rahman?"

"Follow him, gather evidence of the WMD exchange, and apprehend them both. We cannot take risks with Al Qaeda getting lucky on us again, especially after 9/11."

"We'll be fine." Bond reminded. "Don't worry. Now, tell me about our local police contact." "Ms. Mansfield is already at the party. She knows Schmidt's operations from A to Z. We'll see her when we get inside." After that, Felix turned onto a one-way street and made a left turn onto East 74th Street. The New York Museum of History was a grandiose, stone building with tall banners that draped over the large windows. The banners advertised the Egyptian exhibit, with today's date being May 10, 2011. People were gathered outside, as well as college kids in red vests acting as valets. Leiter pulled up behind a green Lamborghini and put the car in park. He turned to Bond and said, "Game face, Double-O Seven."

Bond smirked and straightened his bow tie just as a chunky, cinnamon-skinned, red-vested kid with an acne problem opened the passenger door for Bond. As he and Leiter stepped out, the kid asked for the keys, and gave Leiter a ticket and showed them the entrance to the party. As a good gesture, Leiter slipped the teenager a twenty-dollar bill. "Do your job well, and I'll give you twenty more." Leiter offered. The kid smiled and crumpled the bill in his pocket. He said, "Don't worry, sir. I'll take good care of it." Bond and Leiter then stepped onto the red velvet carpet that led up to the museum entrance as the Ford Taurus pulled away. Immediately, Bond saw two tuxedo-clad men with sunglasses and earpieces by the doors, and another suited man checking invitations. When their turn came, Bond and Leiter produced their invitations and IDs and handed them to the man. He checked over them both, and then said, "Enjoy the party."

Bond stepped into the museum first, followed by Leiter, and were greeted by the ticketing and information kiosks. A woman behind the counter said with a cheery voice, "The party's upstairs, gentlemen. Please follow the signs." There were a set of stairs leading up to the second floor of the museum. The signs pointed the direction to the party, inside the "Dark Ages Exhibition Hall". Women in evening gowns, men in suits and vests, even Arab princes and dot-com billionaires mingled in the hall. Immediately, an extravagant woman with wavy, strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes walked up to them. She smiled, "Mr. Bond?"

"Yes." Bond knew who she was—Leiter's police contact.

She extended a cream-colored, bony hand, "Kate Mansfield, nice to meet you." She then turned to Felix Leiter and shook his hand.

Bond got down to business. "Where's the bar? And the man of the hour?"

She chuckled. "_Herr _Schmidt is busy at the moment. But give me ten minutes and I'll fetch him for you."

She then pointed to a doorway that led into another exhibition hall. "Also, the bar's down there."

Two women walked around Bond to get to the hall. Kate immediately saw them and went towards them, greeting them in French. Bond left Leiter to mingle and walked past a large model of a medieval _trebuchet _to the end of the hall. He stepped through the doorway, and into the next exhibition, which was of the same size as the Dark Ages, only showcasing Roman antiquities. Statues, vases, chariots, and even a large map of the extent of the Roman Empire adorned the room. The bar was just ahead. Bond went towards it, and greeted the bartender. "Hello." The bartender said in a French accent, "What can I get for you, _monsieur_?" "A dry martini." The bartender started to get to work, but Bond stopped him. He explained, "Three measures of Gordon's gin, one of vodka, half-a-pint of Kina Lillet, shake it over ice, and then add a thin slice of lemon peel." The bartender smiled, "Most certainly, _monsieur_."

Just then, Bond's cell phone buzzed. He answered it. It was a text message from Tanner at MI6. It read:

**Abu Tareq has arrived. Expect company. Be sure to get photographs of the sale.**

Bond put the phone back in his pocket and got his martini. "Abu Tareq" was the alias for Zayed Abdul Rahman. From Bond's Arabic experience, it meant, "Father of the One who Knocks on the Door." The second part of the message must've meant that Rahman had brought with him some backup. Bond was also reminded to take pictures of the deal. His iPhone had a camera, so that obstacle was overcome. He hoped that Ms. Mansfield would find _Herr _Schmidt and meet him before the ceremony started. In the meantime, he sipped his martini, and blended in with the party atmosphere. It would be a long night.

Zayed Abdullah Rahman stepped into the museum at around 8:30 pm. The six-foot tall Lebanese man followed the signs to the party, up the stairs to the first tier of exhibit halls. Following close to him was his deputy, Khalid. Rahman knew him better as _"Sinan"_. It meant "spear", or rather the tip of it. The 26-year-old Saudi had purposefully shaved off his moustache and jihadi beard in preparation for the trip to New York. Just then, another man came into view to the left of Rahman. "_Al Ahnaf_", a 20-year-old Saudi, asked Rahman where the bar was. Rahman told him to be patient. He was a devout Muslim, and beer was frowned upon and strictly prohibited. But in preparation to travel to the United States, they had to endure the taste of liquor and steal themselves against the pleasures of the drink, as well as many corrupting influences of the West. Rahman and his four companions came from around the Arabian Peninsula. All were less than 5'8" tall, and were under thirty years old. But what they lacked in size and age, they made up for in killing and blind loyalty to Al Qaeda. They were taught to blend into Western society, and taught Basic English words and common phrases. They were taught to not stick out, to live among the infidels. When their moment came to enter Paradise, they were to lash out with unparalleled strength, and show no contempt for their enemy.

Going to complete this arms deal, he thought, would be the first step in Al Qaeda's ever-expanding reach as a global organization. For years, Rahman was a chief facilitator in AQ-AP (Al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula). From its base of operations in Yemen, the organization was to create a unified Muslim state in the region, without Western corruption. He had also been a personal secretary to Osama Bin Laden, serving him in Tora Bora, and across the border in neighboring Pakistan. He was good at his job, until being reassigned to Yemen. Then, on May 1, 2011, terror-king Osama Bin Laden was killed by American commandoes in Abbottabad, Pakistan. In the ten years since September 11, 2001, Bin Laden had been elusive and crafty. Al Qaeda was also losing operatives, money, and terror plots around the world were foiled by the West, some in the nick of time. In the United States, Americans celebrated the death of the world's most wanted man. Celebrations in Times Square, Ground Zero, and the White House were widespread; they chanted "U-S-A!" long into the night. Al Qaeda had floundered in the days after Bin Laden's death, with Ayman Al Zawahiri taking command. Rahman wanted to attack the United States immediately and vengefully. He wanted to attack America again and again, until blood was coming out of her nose and ears, until she pulled her troops back from Muslim lands, and begged for mercy. It was then he had gotten an email from a well-known German arms dealer named Wilhelm Schmidt. Rahman had dealt with Schmidt before, by selling machine guns, RPGs, and even a Russian BMP armored personnel carrier to Al Qaeda and its Somali affiliate, Al Shabaab. But this time, Schmidt had gotten a hold of a bioweapon. Something so disastrous and secret, its existence was denied by the US military. _Bioweapon_. That word made his mouth water. Al Qaeda hadn't used a biological weapon before. Bioterrorism wasn't a common weapon in the arsenal of terrorists. In Japan in 1994, a doomsday cult called Aum Supreme Truth had sprayed anthrax around the imperial palace in Tokyo, and later released sarin gas on the Tokyo metro lines. The attacks on the underground killed twelve and sickened more than a thousand. The reason for the minimal deaths was that the chemists hadn't purified the sarin enough. If they had, the deaths would've been in the thousands. But Wilhelm Schmidt had showed off the statistics of this new bioweapon. It could contaminate twenty city blocks, the effects of it could be felt instantly, and death could range from five minutes to two days. The final death count, if released in a major population center, could top 13,000. Five times the death toll on 9/11. And for only 12.5 million dollars.

Rahman had contacted the remaining Al Qaeda leadership and told him about his email with the German. Al Zawahiri was intrigued, and wanted the weapon as soon as possible. They had gotten the money together in two days, and the day after, Rahman flew to the United States with his deputy, Sinan, and traveled to New York City. There, they met with Schmidt, and agreed on the final price and the date of sale. Since Schmidt worked in the New York Museum of History, he would unveil a new collection of rare Egyptian antiquities on May 10. Rahman personally travelled back to Pakistan to deliver the news to Al Zawahiri. A team was assembled, men from AQ-AP, who could travel without difficulty. Rahman then flew back to the United States, and personally greeted them as they arrived at JFK and Newark airports. Two were from Saudi Arabia, both _Sinan_ and _Al Ahnef_. The other two were from the United Arab Emirates, brothers _Abu Salman_ and _Abu Mos'ab_. Rahman didn't prefer to hear their real names, and didn't want to know. He addressed them as "brother", or by their _kunyahs_, their religious names given during training. The nineteen men who travelled to America and committed themselves to what was known around the world as 9/11 had religious names. He knew his teams' names well. Sinan meant spear, _Al Ahnef_ was one of the Prophet's closest companions, standing for patience, tolerance, and enlightened ideas. _Abu Salman_ meant "Father of the Intact", and _Abu Mos'ab_ stood for "Father of the Invincible", and according to the Quran, he was one of the most handsome of the Prophet's companions, and one of the first ambassadors to Islam in Medina. These men would serve him well, and would later be served in Paradise. The first three men, including Rahman, walked into the main exhibit hall featuring Dark Ages and medieval technology and weaponry. Al Ahnef went towards the next hall to the bar. Just then, brothers _Salman_ and _Mos'ab_

entered together and were greeted by a hostess wearing a whorish red dress. By 8:38 pm, all five men were now in position. Dressed in the latest Western fashions and jewelry, they seemed to embrace the culture of the United States. But they carried weapons under their Armani suits. Each man carried a 9mm pistol. Rahman had a large M1911 Colt .45 automatic pistol and a knife. They would start the sale with Schmidt, acquire the weapon, and then ensure his silence. Al Zawahiri made sure of that. What to do with the weapon was at his own discretion. Attacking a place like New York City, Washington DC, Las Vegas, or Los Angeles, would have to take another week of planning. The decision of how to use the weapon would be via a small aircraft, rented, stolen, or hijacked. Rahman had trained in the United States as a licensed private pilot, only allowed to fly single-engine aircraft. That would be all he needed. He righted himself and breathed deeply. He remembered an Arab proverb: "On the day of victory, no one is tired." Sinan pointed to the bar, "Let's get a drink." Rahman agreed, and they walked towards the next exhibit hall.

Bond paid off his martini, and found Kate walking towards him. Following next to her was a man with white hair, brown eyes, in his mid-sixties, wearing a lavish tuxedo. Kate introduced Bond to her companion as Wilhelm Carl Schmidt, Antiquities Director and Head of Preservation for the New York Museum of History. Bond shook his hand strongly, "_Guten Tag_." Schmidt smiled and spoke in cultured English. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Bond. Ms. Mayfield has been telling me about your work." "Yes. I'm in the writing business. I write adventure stories, and I visit museums all around the world to gather research for my projects. My dream is to have a movie based off my line of books, and open my own publishing company here in America." "Quite." Schmidt said. "How are you liking the party?" "It's nice." "You're from England, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you like America?"

"Yes."

"I came here from Stuttgart, Germany in April 1980. I worked a string of odd jobs before becoming a museum custodian at the Guggenheim in New York. Low pay and long hours forced me to study antiquities and preservation at the University of Long Island. It was a slow, painful process, but here I am." A tall, hulking man with broad shoulders and hazel eyes walked up to Schmidt and whispered something German and urgent. Schmidt backed away from Bond. "Gunther informs me that it's time to start the ceremony. You can stay here, _Fraulein _Kate. Have a pleasant evening Mr. Bond." Schmidt then followed Gunther out from the bar. Kate sighed, "Isn't he nice?"

Bond asked, "I wonder if he's this nice to his clients?"

"The unveiling ceremony's about to start." She took Bond's arm. "Come on."

Bond and Kate walked away as three Middle Eastern men in suits got up to the bar. Bond recognized one of them as Zayed Abdullah Rahman. Bond whispered, "The package is here."

She whispered back, "Let's go find Felix. At some point, Schmidt would meet the Lebanese for the arms deal. You can get your pictures there."

_Abu Salman_ walked up to his three brothers and announced, "The German is starting the ceremony." Rahman put down his beer, and turned to _Sinan_ and _Al Ahnef_, who were enjoying

Bacardi. "Let's go." Rahman paid and they walked back to the Dark Ages hall, where a crowd of people were lined up to the hallway behind a velvet rope. Abu Mos'ab joined them, and the five men inched their way closer to get a good look at Schmidt.

Schmidt announced to the crowd before him with a microphone. "It is a great honor on behalf of the Kaufman Foundation, the City of New York, and the government of Egypt to present to you the 'Pharaoh's Passage.' From the times of the Pyramids and the kings, Egypt was a wonderful country with rituals, religions, customs, and wonders that, to us, seems lost today. Three years ago, the Egyptian government allowed our anthropology teams to enter the country, and, with their special permission, we were able to take their sacred treasures back here to America. What was once wonderful and inspiring, only seen by kings and queens, will today be seen by everyone. I am proud to present to you the Pharaoh's Passage, enter, and you will feel what it meant to be a monarch." He then detached the rope, and stepped back to the new wing, adorned with an arch made of replicated sandstone. The crowd followed behind. Schmidt said, "Tonight will be remembered by all. This is not an exhibit for you, but for everyone in the world. It gives me great pleasure to open this passage for everyone tonight." The crowd started to applaud. Schmidt bowed and smiled, and he then motioned for the crowd to enter.

Bond was in the thick of the crowd. He and Kate had found Felix Leiter, and together had trudged along towards the Pharaoh's Passage. Bond could see Gunther talking to Schmidt, and him being pulled away. Bond whispered, "Schmidt's on the move." Kate offered an explanation. "They're meeting in the basement. I know another way in." She then pulled Bond and Leiter aside from the crowd and they walked down a flight of steps, towards the main entrance, and around the side to the Pacific Exhibit. Ornamented with Easter Island heads, shamanistic masks, and statues of naked natives, the three walked briskly to a door marked "PRIVATE". Kate then produced a key from her key ring and opened the door and stepped inside. The dimly lit room led to another door, which Kate opened, and then they were on a catwalk in the basement. Racks of crates, some marked "FRAGILE", some in Arabic, Korean, Farsi, Japanese, and a forklift were located on the bottom level. Bond checked the time, 9:05 pm. He then went over the plan with his two colleagues. "Observe and report. Don't compromise us. As soon as the targets make the exchange, Leiter will go after Schmidt, while Kate and I will apprehend the Lebanese and his backup. Don't shoot the bioweapon, it could get damaged and spray the virus."

"Got it." Kate and Leiter replied in unison.

Bond then got out his iPhone and called Tanner. Bond whispered, "Bond to MI6, we're in position. Waiting for the targets to make the hand-off." Tanner's only reply was, "Good luck, 007."

"Thanks."


	3. The Exchange

**03 / A MEETING AND A BEATING**

Rahman felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Turning around, he saw a tuxedo-clad man with buzz-cut and gray eyes.

"Yes?" Rahman asked.

"I am Helmut." The man replied in accented German-English. "I am a friend of Wilhelm Schmidt. He is expecting you, he wants to show you some 'fine antiquities'."

Rahman smiled. "Excellent."

He motioned for the brothers to stay behind, taking _Sinan_ and _Al Ahnef_ with him. "My business associates." Rahman explained.

"_Gut. _Follow me." Helmut then walked with his guests through the velvet rope and down the hallway to the left. Coming upon the Ancient Americas wing, Helmut found a door and unlocked it with a key. They then walked down a flight of stairs to another door, and then into what looked like the museum storage room. There, among ubiquitous wooden packing crates stood Wilhelm Schmidt, along with another tuxedoed bodyguard. A crowbar was in Schmidt's hands. "Good to see you, Zayed."

Rahman added, "My superiors are counting on me to acquire this item."

Schmidt countered, "As long as the money is good."

Rahman nodded, "$12.5 million American dollars, as my organization agreed. The account numbers will be revealed soon."

"_Gut_." Schmidt smiled. He then turned around to the packing crate behind him, marked with Korean lettering. He jimmied the panel off the crate and pulled out what looked like a metal briefcase. Dropping the crowbar, he unlocked the briefcase to reveal a cylinder-like device. It looked like a gray, insulated coffee thermos. But it was marked with a "biohazard" symbol.

"Can you tell me the details of the article for sale?" Rahman asked.

Schmidt put on an experts' voice. "A biological weapon developed by the US military. A scientifically-advanced form of _Ebola_. The deadliest disease known to man. It can contaminate up to twenty city blocks, and infects anybody within that range. Time of death can take up to five minutes to two-and-a-half days, depending on how bad the infection rate is."

"Perfect."

"Would you like to see it?" Schmidt took out the cylinder and unscrewed it, revealing a red canister with the biohazard warning on it.

"That will do nicely." Rahman said.

"_Gut_." Schmidt put the canister back in the case and closed the briefcase.

He then pulled another container out of the packing crate. He explained, "The dispersal equipment. It can be attached to anything, even a car or an airplane. It is set with a timer or can be activated remotely."

"Good."

Schmidt grinned, satisfied with his client, and asked, "The account numbers?"

Rahman reached into the folds of his coat, and drew a serrated, small knife from a sheath on his hip. He held the knife like a dagger, and stabbed Schmidt in the back of the neck. There was struggle, some gurgling from the German, and then a _pop_ as the spine was severed from the rest of the skull. Schmidt gasped, blood trickled out of his mouth and nose, and he collapsed to the floor. Gunther and Helmut, shocked at their boss's demise, tried to draw their weapons to shoot Rahman. But _Sinan_ and _Al Ahnef_ had reacted before Schmidt was stabbed. The two Saudis had drawn heavy Beretta pistols and had fired two rounds each, the bullets smashed into the bodyguards' skulls. They collapsed beside their now-deceased boss. Rahman then took the knife and pulled it out of Schmidt's neck, wiped it clean, and put it back in its sheath.

Bond, having caught it all on videotape, stopped recording. He could see Rahman and his two bodyguards pick up the weapons of the two dead men. Rahman shouted something to his men in Arabic, and grabbed the briefcase containing the dispersal equipment. _Sinan_ also took the briefcase containing the bioweapon

"Should we take them?" Kate asked with a worried whisper.

Bond dug out his P99 and screwed the silencer onto the barrel. He raised the weapon and lined up the sights with Rahman's head. But he was long gone before Bond could fire.

"Damn!"

Just then, the door leading to the Americas exhibit opened, showing a guard at the top of the stairs, his 9mm pistol out. He asked, "What happened?" When he saw the three Arabs, holding guns and briefcases, he decided not to ask and raised the gun up to fire. _Sinan_ fired twice, and then another. Two rounds struck the guard in the belly and chest, the other struck him in the forehead. He toppled down the stairs.

"_Yallah! Nimshi!_" Rahman barked. _Sinan_ started up the stairs, followed by the other Saudi and Rahman.

"Let's go. We should take them now!" Leiter whispered.

"Yes." Bond calculated that they were going to go out the way they came, through the exhibit halls, to the main entrance, and out to the street.

They couldn't risk a fire fight with all the party guests around. Bond tucked the phone away, gripped the Walther in his palm, and walked out to the gantry exit. They went through the other door to the Pacific hall, and stopped behind a wall bordering the main entrance. Bond heard footsteps and saw two figures approaching. He saw their faces as they came into view. It was Rahman's bodyguards, the Lebanese following behind with the bioweapon snug in the suitcase. Bond turned around to see Leiter pulling out his Glock and chambering a round. Kate also had her sidearm, an FN Five-Seven semiautomatic pistol, with twenty rounds in the clip.

"We take them on three." Bond whispered. "Don't hit the bioweapon."

"Right, brother." Leiter said.

Inside Bond's head, a countdown began:_ One… Two… _

Rahman drew his Colt as they came up to the information/ticketing kiosk. The woman behind it turned around to see the men walking towards them, holding guns. She wanted to scream, but Rahman squeezed the trigger of the .45 and the woman, shot in the face, dropped dead to the floor. He ordered to _Al Ahnef_, "Majid, get the car."

"_Aiwa._" He nodded and broke into a jog.

___Three!_

Bond spun around to see an Armani-clad thug, holding a Beretta at his side, a smile on his face.

That smile turned into a frown as he saw a man holding a black pistol. The man raised his Beretta 92FSB automatic, only to be shot in the throat by Bond.

As he crumpled to the floor, Rahman and the other man stopped in their tracks and raised their weapons. They fired, forcing Bond behind the wall. Leiter appeared and fired his Glock several times, giving Bond cover as he fired at the men who were hiding behind a statue of a Mayan warrior. A shot from up high nicked the skin off Bond's ear. Pivoting, he saw a man up on the landing firing a pistol. Bond dove on his back and squeezed off three shots, dropping the man and sending him tumbling down the stairs. The man was replaced by another and fired at Bond and Kate. Bond emptied the rest of his pistol at the man's position and reloaded, howling curses. The third gunman ducked behind a pillar, probably to reload. Kate, ducking down next to Bond, yelled, "I'll cover you!"

Bond saw Leiter by a column, reloading, and being pinned down by enemy pistol fire. Leiter was also wrestling with his gun. Bond ran towards the brother from Langley, firing at the direction of Rahman and the other man. He made it to Leiter's position and got behind him. Leiter was fighting to clear the chamber in the Glock. "Jammed." He explained. "If we need to stop Rahman, we have to do it now!" Bond turned away, looking up at the landing to see the gunman walking down, a Beretta in hand, firing as he went. Bond shot the man in the face, and he landed down next to his dead friend.

"James!" Leiter yelled. Then silence. Bond turned around,

"Felix?" He couldn't see Leiter. Then his foot hit something. It was Leiter, clutching at his neck, withering in pain on the marble floor.

"Brother," he groaned, "I'm sorry." Bond could only smile a little, seeing that Felix Leiter still had a sense of humor, even under pressure. Bond saw two men appear out from behind the statue and make a beeline for the emergency exit. Bond fired at them, but his shots missed. The men disappeared behind the door and were soon out in the street. Bond heard Felix groaning, "James, go get 'em! Go get those sonsofbitches!"

Kate came up behind the two. "Felix!" she gasped. "I'm fine."

He smiled, "I think I can still move."

"Will you be alright?" Bond asked.

"Like I said, brother: 'go get those sonsofbitches.'"

Bond patted his comrade. "Stay here. Hopefully with all the gunfire, somebody must've called 911." He then turned to Kate, who was reloading her pistol. "Let's go!" They ran towards the main door, past the valet stand into the dark street._  
_

Looking around, Bond saw nothing no sign of Rahman, not even cars on the street. For once, his heart sank. _Damn!_


	4. The Great Destroyer

Then, tires squealing, and engine roaring, a gigantic Land Rover SUV roared past them, a man shooting out of the window. Bond fished out the keys in his pocket and depressed the unlock button. About twenty feet away, an Aston Martin DBS chirped and opened up. Bond got into the driver's seat, with Kate next to him. The DBS roared into life and started down East 74th Street. The car took off like it had afterburners, and soon caught up to the Land Rover. The passenger inside the SUV started firing with a machine gun. Bond swerved and slowed down to avoid the bullets. The Land Rover turned left onto 77th, and Bond followed. They hit some traffic lights, the Land Rover and the DBS running the red lights, almost crashing into other cars. The Land Rover slammed into the bumper of a yellow taxicab, almost spinning out of control. But the Land Rover corrected itself and kept driving. The shooter with the machine gun peppered the Aston Martin's windshield with star-like cracks. But the DBS was fitted with Plexiglas, bullet-resistant material, so the occupants inside were safe. Both cars careened towards Times Square, the area Bond admired could be strewn with dead or dying people in a matter of seconds if the chase didn't end. The DBS roared forward, hitting the bumper of the Land Rover. The car spun out, flipped over twice, and landed right-side up. As the Land Rover returned to earth with a crash, the front axle snapped in half like a matchstick. Both cars stopped, and for a while, all seemed quiet.

* * *

Rahman stirred in the vehicle, and felt blood running down his face. He wiped it off with his sleeve, took the .45, opened the door, and stepped out of the car. Walking towards the European car that was once chasing him, he saw a blonde woman in a purple dress, lying on the hood of the pursuing vehicle. The impact apparently broke the front windshield, allowing her to go through it. She was whimpering softly, yelling over to another person in the car, "James, James! He's coming!" She tried to raise her gun to shoot at Rahman. But Rahman was quicker on the draw. He fired a shot that smacked into her chest, rupturing the breastplate, and ravaging the internal organs. She slumped and rolled off the hood of the Aston Martin. Now Rahman saw the man named "James", getting out of the mangled wreck. Rahman raised his .45 and fired. _Boom! _He aimed again and pulled the trigger. _CLICK!_

Bond ran towards the Lebanese and tackled him to the ground. Inside him, rage just exploded. He knocked the gun free of Rahman's hand and continued pummeling him with his fists. Amidst the flurry of blows, the glint of a knife appeared, silhouetted in the vibrant neon of Times Square. Bond caught the blade with his hand, tearing the webbing, drawing blood. He fought the pain, and twisted the wrist all the way around until the knife dropped to the pavement. Bond scooped it up, and began the first of many thrusts into the thorax, and then in the heart. The knife was left protruding out of

Rahman's upper chest as he staggered back, in shock. He went towards Kate, trying to see if she was alright. Bond picked up her FN automatic, and said he'll stay with her. But he had to see if the bioweapon was active. He went up to the Land Rover and opened the driver's door. Empty. Backing away, Bond opened the rear door, finding a man inside, bruised, bloodied, and shaking his head. A machine-pistol was in his lap. Upon seeing Bond, he raised the gun, shouting, "_Allah-u-Akbar!" _Bond shot the man in the right eye, and he slumped against the window. The interior light was on in the SUV, illuminating the vehicle's interior. Bond saw a briefcase and got it out, opening it. Inside was the metal canister, marked with a biohazard symbol. He twisted the top off the canister and inspected the red cylinder. No cracks, no leaks, no punctures. So it was seemed the world was saved.

"James?" a female voice said. "All you alright?" Bond turned to see Kate Mansfield, standing upright, talking to him, and holding her breasts in agony. Bond hear her groan, and motioned for her to sit down. She did, and Bond broke the zipper at the back of her dress, revealing an exoskeleton of Kevlar. The .45-caliber round had been stopped by the heavy, woven fabric. If the Kevlar wasn't there, the bullet would've gone through her heart, death being almost instantaneous. Bond saw a crowd gathering around the wreck, too scared to do anything. The British agent took charge. "Anyone with a cell phone, please call 911! She's alright!" He then looked into her eyes and assured her, "You're alright. Jesus Christ, you're alright! The Kevlar stopped the bullet. You're going to be fine." "It hurts like hell." Kate groaned, stifling a smile. It was then they lay down on the pavement amongst the twisted metal and broken glass and kissed passionately.


	5. Mission Accomplished

**05/ "MISSION ACCOMPLISHED" **

The ride to Roosevelt Hospital took twelve minutes. Bond was wheeled into the emergency room and was treated for his cut hand. Twelve stitches and a bandage were given, and Bond preparing for discharge on May 13. Upon leaving the hospital, he wanted to see Kate. She had ridden with him in the ambulance and soon checked out after 24 hours. The damage done to her was scrapes and bruises. Then Bond asked about Felix Leiter, who came in that same night with a gunshot wound to the neck. The nurse found Leiter's room and directed Bond there. She said that he was moved out of emergency surgery, and that he was stable. He might go home the next day. Bond left the nurses' station, took the elevator down one floor, and found room number three. A nurse had just gotten out of the room with his chart and asked Bond what he was doing.  
"I'm here to see Mr. Leiter." He answered.

The nurse was puzzled. She asked, "Are you a family member or relative?"

"Of course, I'm his brother."

The nurse shrugged her shoulders and walked away. Bond stepped inside, seeing Leiter on a bed, his feet propped up, wearing a hideous pale-blue gown. A bandage was fixed to the left of his neck. Bond asked Felix, "How are you doing?"

Leiter groaned, "If I still had my gun, I would've shot my way out of here!"

Bond laughed, "It's not as bad as it seems. You're getting the TLC treatment."  
Leiter snorted,"'TLC?'"

"It stands for 'Tender-Loving-Care.'"

Leiter groaned and rolled his eyes. "Langley's impressed with _our _work. The bioweapon was recovered and safely destroyed, and the incident in Times Square was narrowed down to a case 'road rage'. The museum is trying hard to cover up the fact that one of their senior employees was a terrorist arms trader. The media's covering up the facts about the shootout in the museum.

Anyway, a job well done." Bond shook Leiter's hand and said goodbye to his brother. As Bond turned around to leave, a woman walked into the hospital room. It was Kate Mansfield, holding a McDonalds bag in one hand and a large fountain soda cup in the other. She set the bag and the drink down on the bedside table. She said in a cheery voice, "Double Quarter-Pounder with cheese, large fries, and a large Mr. Pibb."

Leiter replied, "Thank you, stewardess."

Kate then looked at Bond. She stared into his eyes and kissed him, and said, "I've missed you, Double-O Seven."

Bond held up his bandaged hand. "I'm afraid my left hand's 'out of action'."

"Are you discharged?" Kate asked,

"Yes."

"Then I'll help you pack and then take you to the airport. With any luck you'll be back in London before midnight." She took Bond by the hand and led him out of the room, waving a final goodbye to Leiter. It was then Bond got out his iPhone and called M. "Yes?"

"It's 007. I'm checked out of the hospital."

M said, "Ms. Mansfield's been keeping me informed of both you and Lieter's conditions. I realize that your hand is in bad shape?"

Bond apologized before saying, "Yes, knife wound."

"That'll set you apart from the action for another week. I want you back in London by Thursday and a full, detailed report on my desk by Monday next." Bond sighed, "Yes, ma'am. I'll see you later." He hung up, and put the cell phone back in his pocket. Bond then turned to Kate and said, "M wants me back in London by tomorrow. I presume you have a place where I can stay?"

She smiled, "Of course." Bond held her hand and walked towards the elevators. He thought, "I hope the world won't mind me taking a few days off? I would love to see some more of the city." They kissed. Kate whispered, "What's the worst that could happen?"

**JAMES BOND WILL RETURN...**


End file.
